When the TARDIS lands on a deserted volcanic
island the Doctor and his companions find
themselves kidnapped by primitive sea-people.
Taken into the bowels of the earth they discover
they are in the lost kingdom of Atlantis.
Offered as sacrifices to the fish-goddess, Amdo,
the Doctor and his companions are rescued
from the jaws of death by the famous
scientist, Zaroff.
But they are still not safe and nor are the people
of Atlantis. For Zaroff has a plan, a plan that will
make him the greatest scientist of all time — he
will raise Atlantis above the waves — even if it
means destroying the world...?
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Science Fiction/TV Tie-in
,-7IA4C6-cadcgB-DOCTOR WHO
THE UNDERWATER
MENACE
Based on the BBC television series by Geoffrey Orme by arrangement with BBC Books, a division of BBC
Enterprises Ltd
NIGEL ROBINSON
Number 129 in the Target Doctor Who Library
A TARGET BOOK
published by
A Target Book Published in 1988 by the Paperback Division of
W. H. Allen & Co. Plc 44 Hill Street, London W1X 8LB
First published in Great Britain by W. H. Allen & Co. Plc
Novelisation copyright © 1988, Nigel Robinson Original script copyright © 1967, Geoffrey Orme ‘Doctor Who’ series copyright © British Broadcasting
Corporation 1967, 1988
The BBC producer of The Underwater Menace was Innes
Lloyd
The director was Julia Smith
The role of the Doctor was played by Patrick Troughton
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading
ISBN 0 426 20336 7
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this
CONTENTS
Prologue
1 Under the Volcano 2 Sacrifices to Amdo 3 Professor Zaroff 4 Escapees
5 An Audience With the King 6 The Voice Of Amdo
7 Kidnap
8 ‘Nothing In The World Can Stop Me Now!’ 9 Desperate Remedies
Prologue
It was magic, decided James Robert McCrimmon. It was the only explanation the young Scottish piper could think of. Minutes ago he had entered what to his eighteenth-century eyes seemed to be nothing more than a ramshackle blue hut, set somewhat in-congruously in the middle of his native glen. The sight which greeted his eyes as he crossed the threshold could never have been imagined even in his wildest dreams.
For a start, no hut could ever have contained a room as vast as the one in which he now found himself. The gleaming white walls were covered with large circular indentations which appeared to give off an eerie light all of their own. Banks of strange-looking instruments and machines lined the walls and whirred and hummed quietly to each other. Even the air itself seemed different, charged with electricity and antiseptically clean. Dotted about the room were various items of furniture: a large battered chest, a splendid Louis X/V chair, and a mahogany hat-stand upon which a stove-pipe was balanced precariously.
Dominating the room was a mushroom-like hexagonal console, in the centre of which a glass column rose and fell with an almost hypnotic regularity. A little man dressed in baggy check trousers several sizes too big for him and a scruffy frock coat which had obviously seen better days was busying himself about one of the six control boards, flicking switch after switch like a little boy playing with a new toy. He looked up at Jamie and his mobile face broke into a wide reassuring grin; beneath his unruly mop of black hair his jade-green eyes twinkled encouragingly.
Jamie gestured vaguely about the room. ’What is all this, Doctor?’ he asked.
would refer to a large leather-bound notebook by his side, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to operate his machine.
‘Och, I dinna like it...’
‘The TARDIS is only a machine, Jamie, it won’t bite you.’ Ben, a wiry Cockney sailor and the third member of the TARDIS crew laid a hand on the Scotsman’s shoulder. ’It’ll take you away from Scotland and the Redcoats forever.’
‘Aye—but where to?’ he asked, with natural High-land caution.
Ben laughed. ’That, as the Doctor would say, is in the lap of the gods. We never know!’
Jamie looked at Ben’s grinning face; he had the vaguest notion that the Cockney was making fun of him. ’You wouldna be leading me on, would you?’
Ben shrugged good-naturedly. At that moment Polly entered the control room. She was a tall, long-legged blonde with long heavily-made-up eyelashes. She was dressed in a revealing multi-coloured mini-skirt and a white silk scarf. Her clothes betrayed the fact that like Ben she had first met the Doctor in the London of 1966.
‘Is it a fact that we don’t know where we’re going, Polly?’ Jamie asked, hoping to get some sense out of her at least.
Polly smiled, remembering her Lust experience of the TARDIS. ’That’s quite true,’ she said in her Sloane Square accent. ’And what’s more we don’t even know what year it’s going to be!’
Jamie looked at her oddly, as if he was having serious doubts about her sanity too. What sort of madhouse had he found himself in? ’Och, I dinna believe it,’ he finally said. ’Ye maun know where we’re going!’
For a moment the Doctor looked crestfallen. It wasn’t often that he came up with an apt quotation, but when he did the least he could expect was that someone would recognise his cleverness. Then his face brightened. ’I’ve just remembered,’ he said. ’For Jamie it’s still 1746, the time of Culloden!’
‘So?’ asked Ben.
‘Well, Robert Burns wasn’t born until 1759!’ With a self-satisfied smirk, the Doctor turned back to the controls. The central column was slowing to a halt, and a myriad small lights were flashing on one of the control boards. Jamie could detect a faint vibration in the floor.
‘What’s happening now?’ he asked, fearing the worst. ‘We’re beginning to land,’ said Polly.
‘Hold tight everyone,’ advised the Doctor as he initiated the materialisation process which would take the time-machine out of the time vortex and into real space once more.
‘Don’t be scared, Jamie. Everything will be all right,’ said Polly, blithely forgetting all the dangers into which the time-machine had already taken them.
‘This is the exciting bit,’ said Ben. ’We never know what we’re going to find.’
‘Aha! That’s the fun of it all!’ chimed in the Doctor. ’Stand by now! Here we go!’
A thunderous electronic roar filled the control room as the Doctor drove home the main materialisation lever. To Jamie it seemed that the floor was shuddering with a sickening violence, but when he looked over to Ben and Polly they seemed to be quite unperturbed by what was happening.
1
Under The Volcano
The island was pitted and scarred and completely deserted apart from a few small animals and nesting cormorants. In the centre of the island, about a mile and a half from the rocky beach and the crashing surf of the mid-Atlantic, stood the remnants of the crater of an extinct volcano. It towered above the few shrubs and trees which disturbed the otherwise unbroken undulations of ochre-coloured rock which spread out in all directions. In the clear blue sky the sun shone almost directly ahead.
In a shimmer of blue the shape of a London Police Box
circa 1960 appeared on a promontory looking out to sea. The first to leave the TARDIS was the Doctor, clutching a plastic bucket and spade like a little boy on his first trip to Blackpool. Ben followed him out and looked all around. He gave a whistle of appreciation.
‘Well, you’ve done us proud for once, Doctor,’ he said, as he felt the warm spring sun on his face and tasted the salt sea spray on his lips.
‘This time, I’ll guess where we are!’ said Polly. ‘All right – where are we?’
‘Cornwall,’ she said with certainty, looking at the rocky beach and the cliffs.
‘You said that the last time,’ Ben reminded her. ‘And I was right!’
Jamie had been staring in dumbstruck amazement at the TARDIS, walking all around it and trying to fathom out how such a small box could hold so much. Now he went over to join his friends.
‘The isles, maybe?’ he suggested. ‘Don’t you know, Doctor?’ asked Ben.
‘How can you tell?’
The Doctor bent down and picked up a reddish-brown rock. He weighed it thoughtfully in his hand. ‘This rock’s volcanic,’ he said. ‘It’s not very old either.’
‘How old is it?’ asked Ben.
‘Miocene,’ he replied, as though that explained everything. Seeing the look of bewilderment on his companions’ faces he explained: ‘Only about twenty-five million-years-old, that’s all; but not Cornwall, I’m afraid, Polly.’
Ben pointed out the rocky peak which could just be seen through a clump of trees. ‘That’s a volcano, isn’t it?’
The Doctor nodded absently. He didn’t seem to be interested at all; his eyes were scanning the coastline, looking for a patch of sandy beach. ‘Possibly,’ he said. ‘Extinct in all probability. Of course, that’s what they said about Vesuvius too...’
‘Let’s go up it then,’ Ben suggested. ‘It’s only about an hour’s climb – and there’s bound to be a fantastic view from the top. Maybe we’ll find out where we are.’
‘Yes. Can we, Doctor?’ asked Polly.
‘I don’t see why not,’ said the little man, still looking out to sea.
‘Are you coming, Doctor?’ asked Jamie as Ben and Polly began to move away.
The Doctor shook his head and waved the three young people on their way. As they walked off through the trees, the Doctor trotted off merrily in the other direction towards the beach. He swung his bucket and spade in his
hands and whistled a tuneless version of I Do Like To Be
Beside The Seaside. Let them enjoy themselves exploring, he thought; he had far more important things on his mind. All he really wanted to do was build sandcastles.
which would slip under them and throw them back a few feet. They were on the point of giving up when Jamie noticed what seemed to be a wide natural pathway which wound its way up the side of the crater. They began to follow this. Along the way the rocky ground was pitted with potholes, and more than once Polly narrowly avoided trapping her foot. She kept quiet about it though: Ben would have a field day if he caught her complaining.
The side of the volcano was not particularly high or steep and after about forty-five minutes they were more than half-way up. Pausing for breath, Ben pointed down to the tiny figure of the Doctor on the beach. He seemed to have abandoned his attempts at building sandcastles and had rolled up his trousers and was paddling about in the water, dancing a little jig.
Jamie shook his head sympathetically. ‘Are ye sure yon Doctor’s quite right in the head?’ he asked.
Ben laughed. ‘With the Doctor you can never be too sure. He likes to enjoy himself, that’s all –’ Suddenly he felt Polly clutch his arm. ‘What is it, Duchess?’
Polly indicated a point some ten feet below them where the pathway twisted out of sight around the side of the volcano. ‘Down there, Ben,’ she said apprehensively. ‘I’m sure I saw something move...’
Ben peered down, squinting in the light of the sun which reflected off the water far below. ‘You’re round the twist, Pol,’ he scoffed. ‘There’s nothing there at all!’
‘I tell you I saw something move,’ she insisted.
‘It was probably only our shadows on the rocks.’ Ben’s tone had softened the moment he had seen that Polly was obviously quite upset. He turned to Jamie. ‘Do you see anything, mate?’
Jamie’s keen Highland eyes peered down. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Nothing.’
Polly bit her lip. Ben was probably right, she reasoned. After all, who else would be on this deserted piece of volcanic rock, miles away from anywhere? Their height and position on the rock face gave them an excellent view of the bay and the surrounding area; nowhere was there any sign of habitation. She managed a half-hearted smile. ‘If you say I’m behaving just like a girl I’ll push you off this ledge, Ben Jackson,’ she threatened.
‘Come on, let’s get a move on,’ he said. ‘I want to see the top of that volcano. The view from there is going to be fantastic.’
As the three friends resumed their leisurely ascent, none of them noticed the figure which detached itself from the cover of a sheltering rocky overhang and continued its silent pursuit of them...
Within another half-hour the three companions were almost at the summit of the volcano. When they reached a large open outcrop of rock, Polly, who had been lagging behind, sat down determinedly on a large stone, and massaged her aching feet. ‘Can we stop for a breather?’ she pleaded.
‘But we’re nearly there!’ complained Jamie, realising once again that he would never really understand girls. ‘Look, Ben and I will go on. You wait here.’
‘Oh no –’ Polly began. She still hadn’t forgotten her earlier suspicion that they were being followed.
‘We won’t be gone long, love,’ Ben reassured her. ‘We’ll be back before you know it.’
Polly slowly nodded her head. ‘All right... but please be careful.’
‘There’s nothing to fret yourself about, Polly,’ Jamie said. ‘I’ve climbed higher hills than this back home in Scotland.’
Idly she wandered over to the edge of the outcrop and looked out to sea. She was about half a mile above sea level and had a good view all around her. They seemed to be on the largest in a chain of islands set like teeth in the gaping maw of the ocean. Some of the ‘islands’ were little more than large rocks and none of them showed any sign of life.
A sudden noise behind her made her turn. ‘Who’s there?’ she asked. No reply came.
Warily she ventured forward and noticed for the first time, half-hidden by a pile of rocks, the mouth of a cave set into the side of the volcano. Curiosity overcame caution and she ventured inside.
The cave was huge and must have been hollowed out of the volcanic rock centuries ago. The ceiling was high, reaching up almost to the top of the volcano; pot tunnels let bright shafts of light into the otherwise gloomy interior. At the far end of the cave Polly saw the dark entrance to a tunnel which she supposed must lead into yet another cave.
A few fragments of broken pottery littered the floor and as Polly bent down to pick some up her eyes were caught by the paintings on the wall. Excited, all her fear now forgotten, she stood up to examine them more closely.
They were painted in bright colours, unweathered by the passage of time, and their elaborate style seemed strangely familiar. Polly thought back to school trips spent at the British Museum but she could not place the period. There were pictures of warriors wielding swords and spears, and ladies in long flowing dresses, their tresses tightly tied back, waiting for their husbands to return from the wars. Alongside them was the motif of a large fish-like creature, its jaws wide open as though it was preparing to swallow the figures up; this design was repeated all over the wall.
Outside on the face of the volcano Ben and Jamie heard the sound of Polly’s screams as they split the quiet afternoon air. Leaping back down onto the pathway, they scrambled down to the rocky plateau where they had left her a few minutes ago. For the first time they too noticed the cave entrance and rushed inside. Polly was nowhere to be seen.
‘She must be here somewhere,’ said Ben. ‘She can’t just have vanished into thin air.’
Jamie darted over to the far side of the cave, his eyes attracted by something lying by the mouth of the tunnel. He picked it up: it was Polly’s scarf.
‘She must have gone down there,’ he said.
Ben peered down into the gloom of the tunnel. It seemed to be a natural fissure, possibly created by the volcano’s last eruption centuries ago, and was wide enough for several men to walk abreast. It sloped downwards. Although the walls of the tunnel glowed with a weird phosphorescence Ben and Jamie could only see a few feet in front of them.
‘Come on, Jamie,’ said Ben, leading the way down into the tunnel. ‘Let’s hope the Doctor was right when he said this volcano’s extinct!’
For about five minutes Ben and Jamie stumbled on down the tunnel, calling out Polly’s name but receiving no reply apart from the eerie echo of their own voices. As they made their way down they too noticed that the walls of the tunnel were covered with the some motif that was in the cave: a huge fish swallowing up people.
The tunnel eventually levelled off and Ben and Jamie found themselves at a set of crossroads off which there led three different tunnels.
‘Now where?’ groaned Jamie.
Facing them, and seemingly having appeared from out of nowhere, stood five steely-eyed figures. Dressed in what seemed to bean elaborate sort of armour made of sea-shells and wearing plumed helmets on their heads, they pointed long tridents at Ben and Jamie.
Ignoring Ben and Jamie’s protests and without saying a word, the guards forced their captives down one of the tunnels and into yet another cave. Dominating this cave was a large cage, attached to a wheel and pulley system which hung from the roof. In appearance it was similar to the cages used in coal-mines with the exception that the closely-set vertical bars of this cage made it a very effective prison cell. The cage dangled over a large gaping pit which obviously led down into the heart of the volcano.
Prodding Ben and Jamie with their tridents, the silent guards pushed the two men into the cage and locked the door behind them. As they became accustomed to the darkness they saw another figure crouched in the corner of the cage.
‘Polly!’ cried Ben, rushing to her side. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I think so,’ she said. She had obviously been crying and her mascara was smudged. But who are those men?’
‘Search me. They didn’t say a word to us. Foreign, more than likely.’
They all turned as the door to the cage clanked open once again. The Doctor was unceremoniously pushed in to join them and the door slammed shut behind him.
‘So they got you too?’ he said and added mournfully: ‘They wouldn’t even let me take my bucket and spade..’.
‘Never mind about that now,’ said Jamie. ‘Where are we?’
‘Yes,’ said Polly. ‘The same fish motif repeated over and over again. Just as if it was trying to tell us a story – Doctor, what’s happening?’
The wheel and pulley overhead gave an ear-splitting screech and began to turn. The cage started to swing sickeningly from side to side.
‘It’s all right everyone,’ the Doctor said calmly as the others tried to keep their balance, ‘I think we’re about to go down. Hold tight.’
Sure enough, the cage began to descend into the pit, at first slowly and then faster and faster.
‘First floor electrical goods,’ muttered the Doctor who seemed to be taking it all in his stride.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Polly. ‘Perhaps we’ll find out soon.’
‘Wherever it is it must be a long way down,’ said Ben. ‘We must be below sea level already,’ said the Doctor, finding that he had to shout to make himself heard above the din of the lift mechanism and the rush of air. ‘I wonder how far this thing goes down.’
‘Doctor, it’s getting difficult to breathe,’ said Jamie. ‘I don’t feel very well either,’ said Polly.
‘Now don’t be frightened, anybody,’ said the Doctor. ‘It’s only the effect of the increased pressure. It’ll pass soon.’
But the Doctor found he was talking to himself. Polly and Jamie were out cold, knocked unconscious by the increased pressure, and Ben’s eyelids were flickering shut too. As the lift sped ever faster into the bowels of the Earth the Doctor felt his own consciousness slipping slowly away too.
2
Sacrifices To Amdo
The cage came to a surprisingly gentle halt in a large stone chamber. As Ben’s eyes opened and came into focus the first thing he saw was the Doctor sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cage, playing a whimsical tune on his recorder. The next thing he saw was that the door to the cage was opened. He tried to stand up, but the world was still spinning sickeningly around him.
‘It opened automatically the minute we touched ground,’ the Doctor said in answer to Ben’s unspoken question and then indicated a metal door set in the far wall of the chamber. ‘That door, however, is still locked. No doubt someone will come to release us when they’re ready. They wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble otherwise. Now, you’d better see to Polly and Jamie.’
Ben shook his two companions awake. ‘Come on, rise and shine!’ he said with a cheeriness he did not feel.
Jamie opened one reluctant eye, and then another. ‘I feel like I’m dead,’ he groaned as he struggled into a sitting position and adjusted his Highland regalia and kilt. ‘I certainly wish I was...’ he said as he felt his head pounding. The last time he’d felt like this was when he had tasted his laird’s best malt for the first time at a Hogmanay festival.
‘You’re not dead, old son,’ smiled Ben. ‘You’ve just got a touch of the submariners, that’s all. We must be miles below ground now, under the sea.’ As he helped to rouse Polly, he indicated the room in which they now found themselves. ‘It’s some sort of decompression chamber,’ he explained to Jamie whose only response was a look of blank incomprehension.
The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. ‘Troglodytes,’ he suggested.
‘What?’
‘Troglodytes,’ he repeated. ‘Ancient tribes from North Africa who used to dwell in caves.’ The Doctor didn’t sound too sure. ‘Of course, that’s only one possibility,’ he admitted and began rummaging in his capacious pockets for his diary.
‘Did you hear that, Jamie?’ said Ben. ‘Cavemen! You’d better watch it: with that kilt you might be mistaken for a girl!’
Jamie gave Ben an evil look which could have decimated the entire English army.
The Doctor flicked through the pages of his diary, trying in vain to decipher his own atrocious hand-writing. ‘Of course, we might not be in the right time period,’ he said, and frowned as he tried to read a passage which was partially concealed by a very large ink blot. ‘It’s very difficult to put a date on these people.’
‘I don’t think it is,’ announced Polly. She had risen shakily to her feet and had been wandering around, picking her way through the rubble which lay all about the chamber.
‘All right then,’ challenged the Doctor. ‘When?’
Polly affected an air of academic nonchanlance. ‘Oh, I’d say about 1970,’ she said airily.
Can you prove it?’ asked the Doctor, his eyes narrowing. ‘Yeah, go on, Polly,’ said Ben. ‘Prove it.’
‘Voilà!’ With all the smugness of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat she handed a small broken pot she had found to the Doctor.
‘How very interesting,’ muttered the Doctor as he studied the pot closely, like an antique dealer trying to assess the value of an object. ‘Aztec... fake, of course.’
‘How can you tell, Doctor?’ asked Ben.
‘When we first left Earth it hadn’t happened yet,’ pointed out Polly.
‘That’s right,’ said Ben, suddenly full of admiration for Polly. ‘It wasn’t due until 1968.’
‘So now it must be later than that,’ reasoned Polly. Jamie shook his head. ‘Mexico? Later? Och, I wish I could understand,’ he said and decided there and then that he wouldn’t even try.
Suddenly the door to the chamber opened. Three guards entered, armed this time not with tridents but strange-looking harpoon guns.
‘Polly, go and talk to them and ask where we are,’ urged Ben.
‘Why me?’
‘Well, you speak foreign, don’t you?’
Polly approached the leader of the guards warily. ‘Parlez-vous français?’ she enquired in her best finishing-school French. Receiving no reply she tried again. ‘Sprechen Sie deutsch? ¿Habla espanol?’ The guard looked blankly at her and said nothing.
Not to be outdone, Jamie asked the same question in Gaelic.
In response the guard indicated with his gun that the four time-travellers should leave the chamber and follow him.
‘Well, that means move in any language,’ observed the Doctor wryly. ‘I think we had better comply.’ Ushering Ben and Jamie forward, he said, ‘Women and children last,’ and then took Polly’s hand and led her out of the chamber.
The guards took them through a network of tunnels until they arrived at two large wooden doors set into the stone wall. Turning the ring handles, which were fashioned in the form of two fishes, the guards opened the doors and took the TARDIS crew inside.
taking in every detail of his surroundings, he marvelled at the engineering skills required for the task. Other doors led off to what the Doctor already suspected was an entire city built into the honeycomb of caves and tunnels which lay underneath the volcanic island.
Lush velvet drapes covered the walls. The natural phosphorescence of the rocks which had, up to now, been their only source of light was now augmented by hanging oil lamps and, the Doctor noted with interest, several electric lights set into the walls.
Before them was a long wooden table upon which had been laid four wooden bowls and four goblets filled with water. The Doctor clapped his hands with glee and strode over to the place which had been set for him. The silent guards showed the others to their respective chairs and with gestures invited them to sit down. They then retired to stand guard by the doors which led to the tunnels.
‘Ah, food! I’m starving!’ The Doctor licked his lips and raised the bowl to his mouth. He began to sip at the contents of the bowl. ‘Oh, this is excellent, delicious!’ he enthused to the impassive guards. ‘Pure ambrosia!’
‘What’s he playing at?’ Ben whispered to Polly as they watched on in astonishment.
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I don’t know – I’ve never seen him go for food like this before.’
‘Aye, that’s as maybe,’ said Jamie. ‘But we’d better help him or at the rate he’s going he’ll scoff the lot.’
Ben looked disdainfully down at the contents of his bowl – a thick green sludge. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘Plankton,’ replied the Doctor and gave an appreciative burp.
‘What’s that?’ asked Jamie.
‘Small pods and animals from the sea,’ explained the Doctor.
Polly’s face turned a distinct shade of green and she pushed her bowl away in disgust. ‘I don’t think I’m very hungry, thank you..
The Doctor smiled greedily and took her bowl for himself. ‘You’d better get used to it,’ he advised between mouthfuls. ‘I don’t think there’s anything else to be had down here.’
As they continued with their unexpected but nevertheless welcome meal the doors leading out from the chamber opened. In strode – or rather waddled – a tiny, immensely fat man dressed in the rich and ornate regalia of a high priest. He wore long flowing robes and a necklace of rare sea-shells and jewels. Piggy eyes stared out of a heavily jowled face, and an expansive plumed helmet adorned his otherwise bald head. A cloud of expensive perfume reeked about him.
He was followed by several other priests and a small contingent of guards. The Doctor stood up, a beaming smile on his face, and offered the priest his hand in welcome. The priest looked down disdainfully at the little man’s grubby fingernails and refused the gesture with a supercilious turn of the head.
When he spoke his three chins wobbled with the movement of his mouth. ‘My name is Lolem,’ he said and, seeing that the four travellers were not overly impressed, continued: ‘I have been expecting you.’
‘What d’you mean, expecting us?’ interrupted Ben irately. ‘We didn’t even know we were coming here ourselves.’
Lolem looked down his nose at the sailor – no mean task as Ben was at least half a foot taller than him. ‘The living goddess Amdo sees all and knows all,’ he explained in his sibilant tones.
‘And she had a message for you about us?’ asked the Doctor.
‘Ah, I see...’ said the Doctor and looked thoughtfully back at the food which had been so unexpectedly prepared for them. Something very fishy was going on; of that he had no doubt. He suddenly felt very much like the fatted calf. ‘And just what part are we to play in this Festival of the Vernal Equinox?’
‘A very important one,’ replied Lolem, and clicked his fingers. The guards moved forward and took hold of each of the time-travellers. ‘Take them away,’ he ordered.
The Doctor shook himself free of his guard. ‘Wait!’ he said with affronted dignity. ‘I have something important to say.’
Lolem sighed. Sacrifices were always like this, he reflected; it was as if they just didn’t appreciate the great honour which was about to be bestowed upon them. It was never like this in the good old days.
‘Say it then,’ he yawned and began to make a great show of inspecting his finally polished and manicured fingernails.
The Doctor wagged an admonishing finger in front of Lolem’s pudgy face. ‘I won’t speak under threats,’ he warned.
‘You will be granted five minutes to make your point,’ conceded Lolem. ‘Then you will join your companions.’ He turned to the guards and ordered them to take Ben, Polly and Jamie away. ‘Do not worry,’ he said to the Doctor, ‘they will come to no harm – yet.’
Having gained at least a temporary respite from his imminent execution the Doctor was nevertheless powerless to stop the guards from escorting his three companions out of the chamber. When they had left Lolem addressed him again.
‘Now, Stranger, say what you have to say and do not waste any time. There is very little of it left for any of you.’
Lolem’s whole body tensed – an interesting sight with all his excess fat – and his eyes narrowed. ‘What do you know of Zaroff’ he asked warily.
‘A good deal,’ revealed the Doctor. ‘He is here, isn’t he?’ ‘How did you know?’
‘The food – the plankton,’ explained the Doctor. ‘It couldn’t be anyone else but Zaroff. He led the field in producing food from the sea. But I must say that his progress has been astonishing!’
‘Are you a friend of Zaroff?’ Lolem sounded cautious, unsure now of just how to treat the newcomer.
The Doctor hesitated, and then produced his diary from his coat pocket. He began to scribble a note in it. ‘Just send this message to Zaroff and you’ll see.’ He tore the page out of his diary and made to hand it to the high priest.
Lolem had noticed the Doctor’s hesitation. He shook his head. ‘I will take no message to Zaroff,’ he said icily.
The Doctor stamped his foot with rage. ‘You’re making a big mistake, you know!’ he cried as the remaining guards siezed him.
At that moment the doors opened again to admit a tall, slender young girl into the chamber. She was dressed in a simple white robe, fastened at the shoulder with a brooch made from a conch-shell. A complex arrangement of seashells adorned her fair hair which was knotted in an elegant bun.
‘What is it, Ara?’ asked Lolem, obviously annoyed at yet another interruption to his working day.
‘I was told to clear the table,’ the girl said defiantly. The Doctor looked oddly at her; Ara’s bearing was altogether too self-assured for an ordinary serving girl.
Lolem nodded that she could continue and swished grandly out of the chamber. The guards followed with the Doctor in tow. As the tiny group passed Ara the Doctor managed to press the note into the serving girl’s hand.
But before the confused girl had time to answer, the guards had taken the Doctor away.
Ben, Polly and Jamie had been escorted by the guards down a steep winding stairway and through a pair of large stone doors into a huge cavern. The sight within was breathtaking. Huge fluted stone columns towered up to the roof where they arched and met in the centre. From here a large silver censer swung slowly to and fro, filling the air with the heady scent of incense. Velvet drapes and delicately-woven tapestries covered all but one of the eight walls of the cavern. The other wall was dominated by a massive golden idol, representing the face of the fish-goddess Amdo. Her staring impassive eyes and her two outstretched arms, which outlined the main altar area, reminded Ben and Polly of the Sphinx. The flaming wall torches – here in the temple there was no electric lighting – cast an eerie light on the idol’s face.
In the centre of the temple was a massive high-rimmed well, which was encircled by a shallow channel. Suspended over the rim of the well were four iron beams; at the end of each of them hung a large earthen-ware container full of water. Each container had a small tap, the intention being that when the tap was opened the water would run out into the channel, and thereby lower the beam into the well. By the side of the well was a small alcove to which Ben, Polly and Jamie were led. A bar was brought down over the entrance, preventing their escape – symbolically at least. Two armed guards provided a more practical deterrent.
Polly looked worriedly at the procession of priests and the heavily-armed guards who stood by each of the five exits from the temple. ‘I’m scared,’ she whispered, and then asked somewhat dimly, ‘What are they going to do to us?’
Jamie looked around. ‘I don’t see the Doctor here,’ he said. ‘Maybe he’s escaped.’
Ben snorted pessimistically. ‘Fat chance of that,’ he said gloomily. He knew the Doctor of old.
‘The Doctor’s a canny one – don’t underestimate him,’ Jamie said with a confidence he didn’t quite feel. ‘Dina fuss yourself, Polly.’
‘Quiet!’ hissed Lolem, outraged at the lack of decorum in the sacrifices’ behaviour. ‘You profane the Sacred Temple of Amdo with your idle chatter!’
‘Yeah, and you offend my sense of good taste, mate,’ countered Ben defiantly. ‘Dressed up like a dog’s dinner and ponging like a perfume factory. What do you think you’re playing at?’
‘You have been selected as sacrifices to the Great Goddess Amdo,’ explained the High Priest and indicated the well. ‘You will be tied to the beams and lowered into the well where the children of Amdo await you. It is a very great honour,’ he added helpfully. The looks on his prisoners’ faces clearly showed that they were less than grateful for this particular honour.
Lolem returned to the assembly of priests who had gathered before the altar. Their ranks respectfully parted for him as he took his place at the front of the steps leading up to the idol. Kneeling, he began to recite the great litany of sacrifice. None of his prisoners could understand the words he was speaking.
‘Ben, should we try and make a run for it?’ asked Jamie. Ben shook his head and indicated the guards standing by the exits. ‘Wait for the Doctor to arrive,’ he advised.
‘He’s got out of tighter situations than this before,’ Ben reminded her. ‘Don’t worry, Pol – while he’s at large there’s still hope.’
Just then one of the doors opened and a party of guards entered the temple. In their midst was the Doctor whose hands had been tied behind his back. He gave his companions a sheepish grin.
Ben groaned and shook his head in despair. Suddenly all his hope had gone flying out of the window.
Ara had always despised her people’s custom of sacrifice to Amdo. Before his untimely death her father had been an important member of the ruling council who, although a staunchly religious man, had advocated an end to this barbaric practice. While Ara certainly had no love for Zaroff or any of his friends, she hated the self-righteous blood lust of Lolem and his priests even more; and so it was that, after some deliberation, she took the note to Zaroff s Power Complex.
Few doors were locked to Ara and she found her way through the tunnels which led to Zaroffs headquarters with ease. A horrible circumstance had forced her to assume the lowly status of serving girl, but she was still the daughter of a former councillor of the city and was still respected as such by many of the common folk, and indeed the guards.
Unfortunately one of the people who did not recognise Ara’s former noble rank was Damon, the city’s chief surgeon and a member of the scientific elite created and headed by Zaroff. Damon had been a mere scholar when Zaroff had appointed himself his mentor some twenty years previously. Now the humble scholar had become an arrogant, self-opinionated braggart, fond of vaunting his superiority over the others in the city. When one of his servants showed Ara into his quarters he received her as though it was a great honour – for her.
Ara returned Damon’s look with a stare of steely defiance. ‘I have a message – a message for Professor Zaroff,’ she stressed, knowing full well that the only person Damon feared was the professor himself. All Damon’s power stemmed directly from Zaroff. ‘It is very important,’ she said as she handed over to Damon the note the Doctor had pressed into her hand.
Damon gave the note a cursory glance and then looked back at Ara. He pretended to deliberate, but Ara knew he had already made his decision – indeed the only decision he could make.
‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘I shall take this to Professor Zaroff.’
Back in the temple the preparations for the sacrifice had been made. The necessary invocations to Amdo had been chanted and the appropriate obeisances to the statue of the goddess performed. More importantly– at least as for as the potential sacrifices were concerned – the Doctor, Ben, Polly and Jamie had each been tied to the end of one of the four beams which hung over the well. Below their feet four hungry sharks swam about in the water, eagerly awaiting their next meal.
The child-priests untapped each of the earthenware pots which kept the beams balanced. As the water began to pour out of them into the surrounding channel, so the time-travellers’ weight began to tilt the other end of the beam towards the water and the waiting sharks.
There was an almost ecstatic look on Lolem’s face as he watched the Doctor and his friends being slowly lowered down into the pool. ‘Life is a stream of water that drains away even as time does and cannot be re-claimed,’ he intoned while the other priests chanted their litany to the goddess. ‘Accept, O mighty and powerful Amdo, these your sacrifices.’
starved for days and the prospect of fresh blood had whipped them into a ravenous frenzy.
Polly screamed hysterically as the mighty jaws gnashed beneath her in fevered anticipation.
3
Professor Zaroff
The doors to the temple crashed open and a contingent of armed guards, dressed not in traditional costume but in black leather uniforms and jackboots, stormed into the temple. Lolem and his priests stood back in outraged amazement as, without a word of explanation, the guards marched over to the sacrificial well and re-plugged the earthenware pots, thereby stopping the descent of the TARDIS crew into the shark pool. The temple guards looked at each other in bewilderment, unsure of what to do.
Lolem stalked angrily up to the figure who had just entered the temple and had evidently given the black-uniformed guards their orders. The newcomer was tall and dressed in a high-collared white coat; a short black cloak hung over his shoulders. A shock of prematurely white hair covered his head, and a pencil-thin moustache topped his cruel mouth. The skin of his long aristocratic face was sallow but his large eyes gleamed with an icy-blue brilliance.
‘You dare to interfere with a sacrifice to the Great Goddess Amdo, Professor Zaroff?’ Lolem spluttered with rage, making little attempt to conceal the con-tempt he felt for this man.
‘I would not wish to interfere with your sacrifice,’ Zaroff stated calmly. His voice had a pronounced East European accent to it, together with a slight American twang. ‘But I am searching for that man.’ He pointed a long bony finger at the Doctor whom he recognised from Ara’s description.
was one to which even a high priest had to bow if he valued his life.
‘Very well,’ he said finally, mustering as much dignity as he could as he turned to the temple guards. ‘Release him.’
Bemused, the guards untied the Doctor and brought the little man to the professor. The Doctor offered his hand but once again it was refused.
‘I must thank you for –’ he began, but Zaroff cut him short.
‘That information you have,’ he snapped. ‘What is it?’ ‘First release my friends,’ said the Doctor, nodding over to Ben, Polly and Jamie who were still dangling over the shark pool.
‘Your friends are of no concern to me,’ Zaroff stated coldly. ‘Your information– quickly!’
‘You may not care about my friends, but I do.’ The Doctor stared defiantly into Zaroffs cold unblinking eyes. ‘Professor Zaroff, if anything happens to them you will never know the vital secret I have to tell you.’
To be defied in such a way was a new experience for Zaroff. He looked strangely at the little man dressed in the preposterous clothes before admitting defeat. ‘Release them all,’ he ordered Lolem, who complied begrudgingly. Once they were freed, Ben, Polly and Jamie were brought before Zaroff. ‘Have them taken to the Labour Controller,’ he told Lolem. ‘He will know what to do with them.’
The Doctor’s companions began to protest but the Doctor urged them to go. Everything would be all right, he assured them; for the moment it was enough that their lives had been spared.
As the temple guards led them out, Zaroff returned to the matter in hand. ‘Well, Doctor? What is this great secret you want to tell me?’
To the Doctor’s great surprise Professor Zaroff also smiled. ‘The whole world believed I had been kidnapped,’ he chuckled.
‘The East blamed the West; the West blamed the East,’ said the Doctor.
Tears of delight began to stream down Zaroff s face as he imagined the chaos his disappearance must have caused. ‘I wish I could have been there!’ he laughed.
‘And now here you are, the greatest scientific genius since Leonardo da Vinci, under the sea!’ The Doctor’s estimation of Zaroffs worth was not mere flattery; there was no doubt that Zaroff had been one of the greatest thinkers of his day. ‘But what really happened, Professor?’ he asked. ‘You must have a fantastic story to tell.’
‘Perhaps I’ll tell you one day – if you live.’ Zaroffs tone had shifted from one extreme to the other. He towered threateningly over the little figure of the Doctor. ‘Now, what is this vital secret you have? I must know it.’
The Doctor blushed and lowered his eyes. ‘Well, er... actually I haven’t got one...’
‘Guards!’ Zaroff snapped his fingers and two of his black-uniformed henchmen approached the Doctor. The Doctor pleaded with Zaroff. ‘Professor, I’m sure a great man like you wouldn’t want a modern scientific mind like mine to be sacrificed to a heathen idol.’ The Doctor’s words struck home. Zaroff ordered his guards to draw back and considered the little man. ‘You know I could have you torn to bits by my guards, yes?’ he asked.
The Doctor nodded his head. ‘Oh yes, of course.’ ‘You know I could feed you to Neptune?’ ‘Who?’
‘My pet octopus.’
‘You have a sense of humour, Doctor,’ Zaroff sniggered. too, have a sense of humour. I need men like you.’ Suddenly Zaroff burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, and slapped the Doctor amicably on the shoulders. Encouraged, the Doctor joined in the merriment, thankful for Zaroff s abrupt changes of mood. ‘You come with me, yes?’ asked Zaroff.
‘Yesyesyes!’ giggled the Doctor.
Arm in arm, the two men left the temple, laughing and joking together like two long-lost school friends.
Lolem, however, was not amused. His eyes narrowed with hatred as he watched the two scientists depart. Ever since Zaroff had appeared twenty years ago, the high priest had grown to resent his presence. He begrudged him the great power and influence he held, which had already displaced Lolem from his own position of pre-eminence among the city’s hierarchy, and threatened the privileges he enjoyed as high priest. But most of all he hated Zaroff for the contempt he displayed towards the Sacred Mysteries of Amdo.
Up to now Lolem had elected to remain silent, prepared to bide his time, secure in his faith that one day Amdo would visit her just revenge on the scientist. But now Zaroff had gone too far: he had profaned the Holy of Holies, depriving the goddess of her rightful sacrifices, and he had made a laughing stock of Lolem in front of his own priests and guards.
The time of silence had passed, Lolem resolved; soon would come the time for action.
The Labour Controller studied Ben, Polly and Jamie contemptuously, as if they were specimens in a rather run-down zoo.
disobeyed. ‘Zaroff has decreed that you provide useful service to the conununity.’
‘Don’t we get a say in the matter then?’ asked Ben. The Labour Controller ignored that remark and studied Ben and Jamie more closely. ‘You men look strong,’ he said. ‘You will be sent to the mines.’
‘The mines? What do you mean?’ asked Jamie as the black-uniformed guards moved him and Ben away, leaving Polly standing alone.
‘What about Polly? What are you going to do with her?’ asked Ben.
‘That is no concern of yours.’ The Controller callously dismissed the question as Ben and Jamie were taken out of the room. Once they had gone he turned back to Polly.
‘Don’t be frightened, girl,’ he said, more kindly this time. ‘Life can be very beautiful here under the sea. Come with me and look.’ He operated a control on a small electronic console at his side and a shutter on the far wall slid up to reveal a large transparent screen.
The screen looked out onto the sea bed which was illuminated by strong underwater floodlights. Strange fish darted about, looking for food among the waving fronds of sea plants, oblivious of Polly and the Controller; as well they might be, for these fish were blind, having no need for sight in the dark depths of the sea.
‘Seventy per cent of the world’s surface is under the sea,’ explained the Labour Controller. ‘You are looking at one of our food-producing areas. Without them we couldn’t survive.’
Suddenly a large clump of sea plants was parted to reveal two figures swimming into view. Polly gave a start and then looked more closely.
flippers, and their hands were webbed. Round glassy eyes stared unblinking out of their strangely impassive faces which were also covered with scales. Large diaphonous fins extruded from the side of their heads.
They swam expertly and gracefully, often out-distancing the tiny fish about them. They ignored Polly and the Labour Controller altogether.
‘What are they?’ asked Polly when the Fish People had passed by.
‘They are our farmers. Once they were human as you and I. Now they work under the sea to gather food for our people.’
‘That’s fantastic!’ marvelled Polly. ‘But how do they breathe?’
‘We alter their genetic coding and give them plastic gills.’ The Controller noticed Polly’s look of amazement. ‘That surprises you, doesn’t it?’
‘It’s breathtaking,’ the girl said, and then winced at the unintentional pun.
‘I’m glad you’re taking it the this,’ continued the Labour Controller. ‘Some people get most upset when they learn that they’re to have the operation.’
Polly’s face fell. ‘Operation? What operation?’
‘We couldn’t sent you out there without it – if we did you’d drown.’
Polly realised what he was talking about. ‘You’re not turning me into a fish!’
The Doctor was also looking out onto the ocean floor. Zaroff had taken him to his headquarters – a vast complex of interconnected rooms and caves, packed full of scientific equipment and computers, all being tended by white-coated technicians.
the sea bed. Occasionally one of the Fish People would swim through an archway of a ruined building.
‘So what do you deduce from all this, Doctor?’ queried Zaroff, as though he were testing the little man.
‘Just give me a clue, Professor,’ asked the Doctor. ‘Don’t you know, Doctor?’ Zaroff smiled, enjoying the Doctor’s confusion which merely served to underline his own superiority. ‘Then let me tell you where we are. We are south of the Azores on the Atlantic ridge.’
The Doctor rubbed his chin and glanced back I thoughtfully at the view of the sea bed through the screen. The architecture of the ruined buildings was repeated in all the chambers of this subterranean city, as though its inhabitants were trying to recreate that past style. He remembered the motif he had noticed in the cave above ground. The huge fish swallowing an entire city – or perhaps even more...
‘It’s not possible,’ he insisted as the truth slowly dawned on him. ‘It’s only a legend, a fancy dreamed up by Solon and mentioned by Plato...’
Zaroff laughed. ‘Not a legend, Doctor, but the truth.’ ‘We’re in the ancient kingdom of Atlantis!’
‘Yes,’ said Zaroff, enjoying the look of surprise in the Doctor’s face. ‘It’s all really quite simple, my friend. When Atlantis was submerged at the time of the flood, some life continued in air pockets in the mountain, thanks to natural air shafts provided by the extinct volcano. Those ruins you see out there beyond the protective screen are all that remains of old Atlantis. But here within the mountain itself the life and traditions of that ancient kingdom still go on.’
‘But how did you get them to accept you?’ The Doctor wanted to know. ‘Surely science is in opposition to ancient temple ritual and idol worship.’
‘The Atlanteans needed me. When I arrived here they depended for their food on the few animals living on the surface and the fish which you as a scientist know are rare at these great depths. I developed the means of extracting plankton from the sea and, at a stroke, solved their perennial food shortages. They are right to be grateful to me; they owe me their lives.’
‘But surely that’s not all?’ pressed the Doctor. Why did he have this feeling that Zaroff was hiding something from him?
‘Their society was stagnating; it had hardly advanced since its disappearance over three thousand years ago. I brought with me all the benefits of modern science: electricity, penicillin. I trained their thinkers and philosophers, taught them that the ways of science far outstretch the narrow path of superstition and ignorance. In return they gave me all the facilities I need to pursue my research.’
Zaroff paused a moment and considered the Doctor, debating whether he could trust his great secret to this scruffy little fellow with the brilliant eyes. Finally he said: ‘And I also gave them a rather large sugar-coated pill.’
The Doctor’s eyebrows arched with interest. Just at that moment one of the technicians working in the laboratory interrupted their conversation and handed Zaroff a slim sheaf of notes. The scientist glanced over them and then turned apologetically to the Doctor. ‘There is a slight problem in one of the power generators, Doctor. Please feel free to look around my laboratory while I attend to it.’
‘It’s the girl –your friend,’ she whispered, fearful lest Zaroff should hear her. ‘They’re going to carry out the fish operation on her.’
‘Fish?’ asked the Doctor and remembered the Fish People he had seen swimming outside. He looked quickly around the laboratory. Zaroff was deep in conversation at the far end of the room. ‘Ara, do you know where the main fuses are?’
‘Fuses?’ Ara did not understand – a fact the Doctor noted with interest.
‘Never mind... Go back to Polly and if the chance comes get her away.’
Ara nodded. ‘But what will you do?’
‘Well, Zaroff did say I was to look around the laboratory, didn’t he? Now hurry!’
As Ara left the room the Doctor sauntered as casually as he could over to the banks of machinery lining the wall. Frantically he began to examine them; if he was to save Polly he would have to act quickly.
In the clinic to which she had been brought Polly was fighting for her life – her human life at least. She had been strapped to an operating table by two burly male nurses while Damon hovered over her. He was trying to inject her with a large syringe, but Polly’s struggles and refusal to remain still for even a second were making his task almost impossible.
‘Don’t be difficult, girl!’ he snapped and ordered the two nurses to try and hold her down. ‘It’s quite painless; you won’t feel a thing.’
Polly remembered that that was exactly what the school doctor had said to her when she was seven and was being vaccinated against polio; he had been lying too. She responded to Damon just as she did to the school doctor: she screamed.
it until it’s all over,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘This will hurt me more than it will hurt you...’
Polly screamed again and kicked savagely with her free legs at the two nurses at the foot of the operating table. Suddenly the overhead electric light flickered and then went out; the whole operating theatre was plunged into semi-darkness. Damon cursed under his breath.
‘Not again,’ he complained. These power failures were becoming more and more frequent and increasingly irksome. ‘How am I supposed to work in conditions like these?’ He threw down the syringe onto a nearby worktop in disgust, and angrily pulled off his surgical gloves and mask. ‘Look after the girl,’ he instructed the nurses. ‘I’ll go and speak to Zaroff myself. Perhaps he’ll listen to me.’
And with that Damon stalked out of the clinic, leaving Polly and the two nurses alone in the darkness.
‘Do you like my laboratory, Doctor?’
The Doctor spun round from the control panel he had been examining. There was a guilty expression on his face like that of a naughty schoolboy caught stealing apples. Zaroff eyed him suspiciously.
‘Er – I beg your pardon?’
‘My laboratory,’ repeated Zaroff. ‘You find it all very impressive, yes?’
The Doctor shook his head. ‘No, not a bit.’
Zaroff frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked coldly. ‘I expected no less of the great Professor Zaroff,’ the Doctor said slyly.
Zaroffs mouth widened into a large toothy grin as the Doctor’s flattery had its desired effect. ‘Yes, I have come a long way in my research,’ he boasted. ‘And luckily the riches of Atlantis and its ample mineral supplies have provided ample means... But enough of this talk. I would like you to meet a friend of mine. Come.’
tank was the largest octopus the Doctor had seen in his life. He watched on in amazement as Zaroff tapped the glass, just as if he might have been patting a pet dog.
‘So you’re hungry today, Neptune?’ he said to his bizarre pet. ‘Did we forget to feed you?’ He turned back to the Doctor. ‘He is beautiful, isn’t he?’
‘Oh yes indeed,’ muttered the Doctor, hoping he sounded sincere. For his part he had always preferred cats.
‘Yes, and he will never betray me,’ Zaroff went on, almost talking to himself. ‘Not like those in the world above.’
The Doctor was about to ask Zaroff to explain that last remark when Damon stormed into the room. ‘Professor –’ he began.
Zaroff waved him away. ‘Not now, Damon,’ he said wearily. ‘Can’t you see I’m talking to my friend here?’
But Damon was not to be dissuaded now. ‘I cannot wait, Professor. If I’m to operate on the girl I must have light.’
‘One operation on one girl. You are making an unnecessary fuss, Damon.’
‘I know what’s going on,’ the surgeon claimed indignantly. ‘You’re using so much power on the Project that all civil use is being curtailed.’
‘Ridiculous!’ snapped Zaroff and for a moment Damon thought he had gone too far. ‘There’s nothing wrong with the civil supply. The supply for your clinic is always adequate. The fault must lie at your own intake.’
‘Professor Zaroff, there is nothing wrong with my intake,’ insisted Damon. ‘All power is controlled from your laboratory. The fault must be here.’
‘Very well then. If you will not take my word for it perhaps you will accept the evidence of your own eyes. Let us check the power controls.’
operating table Polly’s constant whimperings were also beginning to get on their nerves.
‘Zaroff isn’t going to listen to him,’ one said to his colleague. ‘We’d better get some lights from somewhere else.’
‘There are some torches in the old quarters,’ his friend said.
‘Right then, that’s where we’ll go.’ He looked at Polly on the table. ‘Don’t worry, prisoner, we won’t keep you for long.’ They left the room, leaving Polly alone in the blackness.
For some minutes the operating theatre was quiet, except for Polly’s sobbing. Then:
‘Girl?’
Polly sniffed. ‘What? Who’s there?’ She felt a hand touch hers gently and then unfasten the leather straps which held her to the table.
‘Don’t say anything. Just get up and follow me,’ Ara said as she helped Polly to her feet.
‘I can’t see anything,’ said Polly.
‘Hold my hand,’ said Ara. ‘I’m used to the dark. Now hurry before they get back.’
‘Oh dear, I can’t think how I came to be so clumsy,’ said the Doctor innocently. ‘I must have bumped into it or something. I really am most dreadfully sorry.. The Doctor, Zaroff and Damon were standing before the control board which regulated the flow of power to the different areas of Atlantis; it was the same panel the Doctor had been ‘examining’ when Zaroff had interrupted him. The control which supplied the power to Damon’s clinic was firmly switched off.
‘You’re not clumsy, Doctor,’ said Damon. ‘You did it on purpose. But you won’t save the girl.’
Damon gave the Doctor an angry look and left the laboratory.
‘I think you should remain here with me, Doctor,’ said Zaroff flatly.
‘As your prisoner?’
Zaroff smiled coldly. ‘Let us say as my guest.. The tone was congenial but the threat was there. ‘Do not concern yourself about Damon and his accusation. He is just an Atlantean, a primitive. He is clever, but he has no vision.’ He regarded the Doctor with suspicion. ‘But you, Doctor, what exactly are you? You’re either a fool or a genius. Which is it?’
The Doctor wisely declined to answer; he wasn’t too sure himself. He changed the subject. ‘Professor, you said before that you had offered these people a very big sugar-coated pill to make them accept you here...’
Zaroff nodded. ‘I have used their dreams and prophesies to my own ends,’ he revealed.
The Doctor paused to think and then said, ‘The dreams of a people living on a drowned continent must mean –’
‘– to lift Atlantis from the sea and make it dry land again.’ Zaroff completed the sentence for him.
‘Exactly!’ The Doctor clapped his hands with satisfaction. ‘But when the city was drowned why didn’t the Atlanteans simply rebuild their city above ground on the island?’
‘They are a superstitious people, Doctor,’ said Zaroff. ‘They have an illogical attachment to their land, to the ruined temples you see about you. As I said, they are a primitive people.’
‘But how are you going to raise Atlantis out of the sea?’ asked the Doctor and then quickly added: ‘Even a genius like you?’
Zaroff smiled. He was enjoying the Doctor’s interest and flattery enormously. ‘It is simple, my friend, the simplest thing in the world.’
Zaroff agreed. ‘If I can’t lift it, I must lower the water-level.’
The Doctor still couldn’t follow Zaroff s reasoning. ‘But you haven’t got a drain big enough to take an entire ocean,’ he pointed out.
‘Then I will make one,’ Zaroff said simply.
The Doctor scratched his head. ‘Forgive me, Professor, but I am a little lost. The crust of the Earth is over one hundred miles thick. Below that there is believed to be a white-hot molten core. Where is your ocean to go?’
Zaroff smirked. ‘That is my secret, Doctor,’ he teased. ‘Now you’re making fun of me, Professor,’ the Doctor reproved.
‘Not at all.’
‘Even if you could drill down to the depth of a hundred miles –’
‘There is a place where a fissure reduces the distance to less then fifteen miles,’ interrupted Zaroff.
‘Even so, Professor, it’s still an enormous distance...’ ‘But not insurmountable,’ said Zaroff. ‘We have been working on the Project for many years now. We are almost at penetration point.’
The Doctor was silent for a moment, partly marvelling at Zaroffs amazing technological abilities, and partly trying to weigh up the consequences of his actions. Finally he said, ‘But Professor, even supposing you succeed, do you realise what will happen?’
Zaroff chuckled. ‘You tell me, Doctor,’ he challenged. ‘If you drain off the ocean into the core of the Earth the water will be converted into steam... the pressure will grow and crack the crust of the planet, causing unimaginable chaos and destruction – maybe it will even blow up the entire planet..
voice rose to a fevered pitch. ‘It will be a magnificent spectacle! Bang! Bang! Bang!’
The Doctor laid a gentle hand on Zaroffs shoulder. ‘Just one small thing,’ he said softly. ‘Why do you want to destroy the world?’
Zaroff was taken aback. ‘Why? You, a scientist, ask me why?’
‘Tell me, Zaroff.’
‘The achievement, my dear Doctor.’ Zaroff almost chanted the words like a prayer. ‘The destruction of the world – the scientist’s dream of supreme power!’
4
Escapees
After their interview by the Labour Controller Ben and Jamie had been escorted by the jackbooted guards down to the mines of Atlantis. Here in the lowest level of the vast underground domain workers toiled away with pickaxes and antiquated drilling equipment at the rich seams of coal and other minerals needed to fuel the new technology Zaroff had introduced into Atlantis. Above the noise of the mining equipment and generators and the rattle of the coal trucks as they moved along their rails was another deeper, more sonorous sound. It seemed to make even the walls shake with its vibration. Ben had nightmare visions of the entire roof, which was supported only by wooden beams, crashing down on them.
Their escort pushed them towards a burly, coarse-faced figure whose gruff imposing manner and the armed gun by his side marked him out as the supervisor of the mining operation.
‘I’ve another two for you.’
The supervisor looked Ben and Jamie up and down, deciding the sort of work best suited for them. He considered for a moment and then took them over to the coal face. There two workers – a sandy-haired, ruddy-faced man and a younger West Indian – were talking in a huddled whisper. Their backs were to them but they seemed to be looking at something in the sandy-haired man’s hands.
‘You there,’ the supervisor said, addressing the sandy-haired man. ‘What’s that you’ve got in your hand?’
‘Guards, search this man,’ ordered the supervisor, ‘and the other one.’
As the guards began their search the West Indian passed the object into Jamie’s hand. The startled Scotsman held it firmly behind his back. The sleight-of-hand had gone unnoticed by the supervisor and the guards.
The guards shrugged their shoulders. ‘They’re clean.’ The supervisor eyed the two men suspiciously. ‘All right, this time you’re lucky.’ He nodded over to Ben and Jamie. ‘These two have just joined us. Teach them to be useful.’
As soon as the supervisor was out of sight Jamie opened up his hand to look at the object which Jacko, the West Indian, had passed to him.
‘What is it?’
Ben recognised the object but was as confused as Jamie. ‘What’s so secret about a compass?’ he asked.
Sean, the Irishman, snatched the compass from Jamie’s hand. ‘A compass is as important as eyes down here,’ he explained. ‘If they’d found it I’d’ve been for the high jump.’
‘But they might have found it on me!’ Jamie protested indignantly.
Sean laughed. ‘Well, they didn’t, did they!’ ‘Are you planning an escape then?’ asked Ben. ‘That’s our business,’ said Sean defensively.
What’s the matter?’ persisted Jamie. ‘We’re prisoners too. We’re all in the same boat.’
‘That’s right, Jock,’ interrupted Jacko. ‘And we don’t want anyone to rock it. OK?’
‘The name happens to be Jamie!’ said the Highlander and took a threatening step towards him.
Sean laid a restraining hand on Jamie’s shoulder. ‘Take no notice of him, boy. He gets a bit uppity at times.’
Sean immediately took up his pickaxe. ‘Make out like you’re working,’ he said. ‘There’s a rest period soon. We’ll talk then.’
Back in the laboratory one of his Atlantean technicians had called Zaroff over to a bank of computers and flickering video screens. With Zaroff no longer watching him the Doctor began to edge his way slowly towards the door. In spite of Zaroff s assurances that he was not a prisoner, the Doctor doubted that he would ever be allowed to wander freely through Atlantis again, especially as he had now learnt of the scientist’s plans. But it was imperative that he find Polly and the others and some way of halting Zaroff s mad schemes.
He was almost at the door when Damon once more stormed into the laboratory searching for Zaroff. The Doctor instantly turned on his most dazzling smile.
‘Ah, Damon, you’re back,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Did your operation go well?’
Damon looked down contemptuously at the little man. ‘The girl escaped,’ he said angrily. ‘As if you didn’t know...’
‘Oh dear... how very frustrating for you.’
‘We’ll get her back. Guards have already been sent out.’ ‘Yes, yes, of course you will get her back,’ said the Doctor patronisingly. ‘It’s very important to you, isn’t it? You need all the human labour you can get, don’t you?’
‘It’s cheap and plentiful,’ said Damon matter-of-factly. ‘We pick up survivors from shipwrecks who would otherwise be corpses and convert them into Fish People, or set them to work in the mines. We save their lives, Doctor.’ ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure,’ said the Doctor. ‘But what about the people who work in the mines – slave labour to power Zaroff’s experiments.’
glory. We need workers and our population is very small. They should be grateful; without us they would be dead.’
The Doctor regarded Damon in a new light. He was unpleasant, dangerous, a bully even; but he wasn’t really evil – he had been blinded by Zaroff’s promises as, he guessed, had everyone else in Atlantis.
‘Damon, do you know how Professor Zaroff intends to fulfil his promise?’ he asked.
Damon flushed and shook his head. ‘That is not my field,’ he said defensively. ‘I have been trained only in surgery and fish conversion. Others have an understanding of the Professor’s operations. We each have our separate fields, each a small cog in the machine, but contributing to the running of the whole. I accept the fact that Zaroff knows what he is doing.’
So, thought the Doctor, Zaroff’s scientific education of the people of Atlantis had been highly selective. He doubted that even the technicians who were close to Zaroff fully understood the final implications of the Project on which they were working. And poor Damon here, although he might be an accomplished surgeon, had only the barest understanding of other scientific disciplines. He trusted Zaroff; after all, his operations were a success. But he didn’t understand why. Blind acceptance of science, reflected the Doctor, was just as had as blind acceptance of superstition.
‘But don’t you think it’s dangerous for just one man to have so much knowledge, so much power?’
‘The Professor leads the field in scientific discovery,’ intoned Damon as automatically and as unthinkingly as one of the temple priests would recite a ritual prayer to Amdo.
